The lift gave a soft chime as Ava stepped inside. She had tied her still-damp hair into a low ponytail and wore a soft chocolate-brown outfit, something between casual and formal. The loose blouse was tucked into slightly tapered pants, cinched at the waist with a slender gold-buckled belt. It was a color that complimented her skin tone, yet even the flattering cut couldn't hide her exhaustion. Her under-eye bags were faint, but present. Still, her natural beauty hadn't dulled—it just appeared softer, more human.
As the lift doors began to close, a leather shoe slipped in just in time, followed by a familiar, warm scent—clean, masculine, subtly spiced.
Her eyes moved from the floor up to see Dominic stepping inside. He wore a cream knit polo tucked into crisp white linen trousers, casual loafers completing the look. It was understated, elegant—the kind of effortless, quiet luxury that whispered 'old money.'
She had seen him in suits and even in nightwear, but this was different.
In suits, he looked ethereal—commanding, cold, untouchable. But in casuals, he radiated a more relaxed kind of power. Cool and distant, yes, but captivating in a way that crept up on you. For a second, all her fatigue melted. She blinked.
What are you thinking, Ava?
She quickly turned her eyes away and greeted him with a nod, stepping slightly into the corner of the lift.
"Good morning, Mr. Vale."
Dominic nodded. "Miss Ellis."
His gaze shifted toward her, taking in her outfit, the way her shoulders drooped slightly, the faint color lost from her usually vibrant complexion. Even though he had seen her casual looks before—through images, surveillance, records—it felt different now. Ava, in person, held a presence pictures couldn't capture. Real. Soft, yet strong.
She looked tired. And worse—she looked unwell.
He noticed the paleness of her cheeks, the way her hands hung listlessly by her sides.
Without thinking, his hand moved toward her forehead, intending to check for a fever.
Ava flinched instinctively, backing away from his touch.
There was a pause.
Dominic withdrew his hand calmly.
"You look quite pale," he said in a neutral tone. "Did you sleep well last night?"
Realizing how reactive she had been, Ava gave a sheepish, awkward smile. "Oh… yes. I just had a bit of trouble sleeping."
His gaze remained steady. "It's evident."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You seem unwell."
Reflexively, Ava turned to the lift's mirrored wall. She scanned her reflection—nothing too out of place. Just the eye bags. A little paler skin.
Before she could respond, the lift dinged, and the doors opened into the elegant breakfast lounge of the hotel.
They stepped out together, the warm morning sunlight flooding through the high glass windows of the venue. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttered croissants filled the air. Waiters moved gracefully between tables, offering menus and smiles.
Ava headed straight to the beverage table and poured herself a small glass of orange juice. Dominic took note. She didn't even look at the food options.
Sipping her juice, she caught his gaze and offered an explanation. "I'm not feeling like having breakfast today."
Dominic didn't say anything. He watched her for a moment, then got up and moved toward the buffet.
Ava sighed and turned toward the window, letting the golden sunlight bathe her face. From this high up, the city looked peaceful—soft clouds casting slow-moving shadows over rooftops, the skyline etched in pastel hues.
She indulged in the view until a plate was placed in front of her.
She blinked. On the table now sat a small plate of fresh fruit—carefully selected. A few slices of ripe pear, some pomegranate seeds, a few blueberries, and a couple of orange wedges.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. Before she could speak, he said, "Even if you don't feel like eating, you should still have something."
Her throat tightened slightly. She looked at the fruits again, then at his face. There was no demand in his voice, no sternness. Just quiet care.
It had been so long since someone had looked after her like this.
For a heartbeat, she longed to run into her father's arms, to curl up and whine like she used to. But that was a different world.
And to gain something in this world, she knew, you had to sacrifice something.
She picked up a slice of pear and smiled at him—sincerely.
"Thank you, Mr. Vale."
He held her gaze for a moment longer. Then, just as his hand reached halfway toward her, he noticed she had begun to eat.
He drew his hand back, his eyes lingering on her a second longer before turning his attention to his own plate.
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